The rain hadn't let up if anything, it came down harder, like the sky itself was breaking open. Wind howled through the trees as Daon climbed out of the wrecked car, pulling his coat tighter, though it was soaked through and clinging to him like a second skin. He didn't even bother wiping the rain from his face anymore. It was useless.
They had skidded off the main road, the car crushed slightly from the impact against a tree, and the forest around them stood tall and unwelcoming, looming in every direction. No signal. No help. Just cursed silence, save for the whimper of rain and the groans of the injured.
"I'll look around," Daon said, breath fogging as he glanced at Rinwoo and Taemin still in the car. "There has to be something nearby."
And with that, he disappeared into the trees, boots squelching in thick mud.
Inside the car, Rinwoo worked fast. The driver was barely conscious, his head slumped against the seat, blood streaking down the side of his face. Rinwoo's hands were trembling from cold and nerves, but he opened the first aid kit with care. The bandages were damp. Still usable. He pressed gauze against the wound, mumbling softly under his breath. "You're okay. You'll be okay. Just a little more…"
The driver's eyelids fluttered, but he didn't respond.
Once the bleeding slowed, Rinwoo turned to Taemin, who was groaning and clutching the side of his head. A nasty bruise had already started to bloom under his temple.
"Hey, Taemin… Look at me."
He cleaned the cut carefully, avoiding eye contact, worried that if he looked too long at the blood, he'd panic. His fingers, numb from cold, fumbled a little with the bandage, but he managed.
Before Taemin could say something, the car door flung open Daon, soaked from head to toe, stumbled in.
"There's a shrine. It's abandoned, maybe a 10-minute walk far. Dry. Better than this wreck."
They didn't argue. There was nothing else.
Daon wrapped the driver's arm around his shoulder, carrying him with quiet strength. Taemin hobbled out nextwith their bags, still woozy but standing. Rinwoo brought what supplies he could hold the first aid kit, the food bag. Rain soaked them within seconds. Every step uphill was torture the cold wind biting into their skin, the trail slippery and steep. Rinwoo kept slipping, grabbing onto branches and Taemin's arm when needed. He said nothing, only breathed harder through chattering teeth.
Finally, they reached it.
The shrine stood crooked on the slope, old and forgotten, its torii gate rotted and split, and the main hall partially covered in vines. A rusted bell hung limp from the rafters. But the roof was intact. And the inside was dry.
It was enough.
They laid the driver down against the back wall, where it was warmest. Daon peeled off his jacket and placed it over the man's legs, then slumped down beside him, breathing hard.
Taemin sat down, rubbing his arms. "This place smells cursed."
"It probably is," Daon muttered.
"But it's dry," Rinwoo said, trying to smile. "That's all that matters."
Their bandages were soaked through from the rain. One by one, they carefully peeled them off and replaced what they could. Daon tried to make a call, but his phone had zero signal.
"Of course," he muttered, tossing it aside.
"I'll see if there's anything we can burn," Taemin said, getting up. Rinwoo followed without a word.
They found some dry twigs near the far wall and a pile of dead leaves under a stone shelf likely offerings from a long time ago. Rinwoo's hands were shaking badly now, but he kept gathering sticks, even when the splinters stung his skin.
"We can use this," Taemin said, pulling out a small lighter from his bag.
Rinwoo blinked. "You carry a lighter?"
Taemin shrugged. "Just in case."
The flame flickered to life, catching on the leaf pile. Warmth began to bloom across the room.
Just then, Daon walked back into the chamber. He stopped mid-step, his eyes immediately narrowing at the lighter in Taemin's hand.
"Why do you have that?" Daon asked.
Taemin blinked, clearly not expecting to be questioned. "What?"
"That." Daon pointed. "The lighter. Since when?"
Taemin's jaw clenched. "I said it's for emergencies."
Daon stepped closer, eyes hard. "I thought you hate smoking. You always lecture me about it."
"It's not for smoking."
"Then why carry it?"
Taemin looked away. "You're reading too much into it."
"You're being reckless. Drinking. Sleeping late. Clubbing. Now this?"
"Don't start," Taemin snapped. "I'm not the one pretending everything's okay while we're surrounded by curses and secrets."
"You think I'm pretending?" Daon's voice was sharper now. "I'm holding this family together while you go around acting like a brat."
"Well, maybe I'd rather be a brat than some uptight puppet like you."
"Say that again."
The tension crackled like the fire itself.
Rinwoo stood between them, silent the whole time, until now. His lips were blue. His shoulders were shaking. He looked like a candle about to go out.
"Please," he said, voice soft and weak, "don't fight…"
They both turned to him.
His face was pale, soaked hair still clinging to his cheeks. He was visibly shivering, arms tucked close to his chest.
"Sorry," Taemin said immediately, guilt flashing across his face.
Daon muttered something under his breath and stepped back.
Rinwoo swayed slightly on his feet.
"You need to sit down," Taemin said, grabbing his arm. "Come here."
He pulled Rinwoo close to the fire and wrapped the half-dry jacket around him. Rinwoo leaned in without resisting, too cold and tired to argue.
"You okay?" Taemin asked.
Rinwoo didn't answer. He just closed his eyes and nodded slowly, soaking in the heat like a frozen flower trying to thaw.
Daon took a deep breath and sat down near them.
"I'll try the phone again in a bit," he said, quietly.
The three of them sat in silence broken, bruised, and huddled together in the glow of a fragile fire.
It had been nearly an hour since Daon had climbed every boulder and tree stump just to get a faint signal but finally, finally, the call had gone through. On the other end, Taekyun had barely gotten out the word "Hello" before Daon's voice spilled through the speaker, tense and urgent.
"There's been an accident."
Taekyun was in a boardroom surrounded by men in suits, a presentation mid-slide, eyes on him. But the moment he heard the words "car crash," his chair scraped back.
He didn't ask for details. He didn't wait for questions. He left.
Within fifteen minutes, Taekyun had blankets, umbrellas, medical supplies, dry clothes, and two vehicles packed. His assistant, always efficient, drove ahead of him as the rain continued to thrash the city roads.
Half an hour later, the headlights cut through the trees like swords through fog, and the shrine finally came into view. Taekyun barely waited for the engine to cool before pushing open the door and sprinting through the rain. He burst into the old shrine, soaked and breathless, heart pounding faster than his footsteps.
"Where's the driver?" was the first thing he asked.
"He's stable," Daon answered, standing. "But he hit his head pretty bad."
Taekyun turned to his assistant. "Get him to the hospital. Now."
"Yes, sir."
They carried the man out carefully, shielding him with umbrellas. Once the car was gone, silence returned the storm still screamed outside, but inside the shrine, the air felt oddly heavier with his presence.
Taekyun's eyes swept over the dim room the flickering fire, the scattered bandages, the damp clothes hung across broken wooden beams.
And then his eyes fell on him.
Rinwoo.
He was sitting alone in the corner, wrapped in a half-wet blanket, his body hunched and shivering. His cheeks were flushed too red, not from embarrassment, but from fever. His lips parted as he breathed softly through his mouth, brows drawn together in discomfort. His eyes fluttered open, sluggish and glassy. He didn't even seem to notice Taekyun had arrived.
For a brief moment, Taekyun's stern mask cracked.
His heart clenched violently.
He wanted no, needed to go to him. To kneel down and press the back of his hand to Rinwoo's forehead, to tell him he was safe now. But his pride... that cold, immovable wall he'd built around himself… kept him rooted to the floor.
He looked away, jaw tight, and walked to sit beside his brothers instead.
Daon was rubbing his temples while Taemin leaned back against the wall, half-drying his hair with the edge of a blanket.
Daon let out a long breath and then, without warning, spoke up: "Taemin has a lighter."
Taekyun turned sharply toward his youngest brother.
"You what?" His voice was already sharpening like a blade.
Taemin didn't answer immediately. His body tensed, shrinking under his brother's gaze.
"Why?!" Taekyun snapped. "You already go clubbing like a damn delinquent, drinking like your liver doesn't exist, and now what? You smoke too?!"
"I—" Taemin began, but no words came out.
Taekyun wasn't done. "Do you think this is a game? You think you're invincible? Just wait till you start coughing blood in your thirties—"
"I didn't even—!" Taemin finally burst, eyes wide, lips trembling. "I didn't smoke, okay?! I just carry it in case—just in case!"
"Oh, in case what? You get lost in a forest and need to light a fire? Because that's totally realistic—"
"Actually," Daon cut in dryly, "it came in handy today."
Taekyun shot him a glare, but Daon didn't flinch.
Taemin pulled his blanket tighter around himself, lips trembling slightly. His eyes had gone glossy, but he blinked fast to fight it.
"Whatever," he mumbled, voice small. "You're always mad anyway."
Taekyun let out a breath through his nose, frustrated. He turned his head away again.
Across the room, Rinwoo stirred.
He was still leaning against the cold wall, trying not to cough, his fingers curling into the damp fabric of his blanket. His head was hot, far too hot, and he couldn't make out half the conversation. But he could tell Taekyun was yelling again. That familiar sting in his chest flared up the kind that never left.
He hugged the blanket tighter and let his head fall to the side, eyes drifting closed.
Even when Taekyun was near, he felt so far away.
And even now, Rinwoo still wanted him to look over just once.
But Taekyun didn't.
The rain finally ceased, though the clouds still lingered, bruised and heavy in the sky. Everyone wordlessly gathered their things, their damp clothes bundled up in plastic bags, exhaustion dragging their feet. The shrine was left behind as they climbed back into the car.
The ride was long. Five hours of winding roads through forested valleys and misty cliffs the kind of silence that stretches out like fog between people who've seen too much too quickly. Taemin snored lightly in the backseat again, and Daon kept his gaze on the endless curve of the road ahead. Rinwoo leaned against the cold window, shivering softly even under the blanket Taekyun had forced into his lap before looking away again.
By the time they reached the base of the mountain, the sun was dipping low behind the hills, casting long golden shadows over the stone path that led upward.
And then they saw it.
The stairs.
Hundreds of them, spiraling into the forest, carved into the rock like the world's cruelest joke. They went all the way up to the high shrine nestled at the peak where Master Hwang lived in sacred isolation.
Everyone just… stood there for a second, trying to mentally recover.
"…We have to climb that?" Daon muttered, wiping sweat from his neck.
"Apparently," Taemin groaned.
Taekyun didn't say a word. He wasn't focused on the stairs.
His eyes were locked on Rinwoo who looked like he was about to collapse just from standing.
Rinwoo wobbled slightly, catching himself on the side of the car. His lips were pale, his face ghostly, and his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. He didn't complain. Not once. He just stared up at the stairs like they were punishment from the heavens.
Taekyun's jaw clenched. His fingers twitched. He wanted so badly to reach for him.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Taemin stepped forward and slapped Rinwoo's shoulder lightly.
"Oi. Hop on."
Rinwoo blinked, confused. "Huh?"
"Get on my back. I'll carry you."
"What? No—no, I can walk—"
"Not in that state. Your face looks like it's trying to ghost out of your body," Taemin snorted, crouching down in front of him. "C'mon. I go to the gym for this exact reason. Let me feel superior."
"But I—" Rinwoo tried to protest again, but his knees buckled slightly.
Taemin didn't wait. "Don't make me ask Taekyun-hyung to carry you."
Rinwoo immediately flushed and reluctantly climbed onto Taemin's back, murmuring a soft, embarrassed "thank you."
Taekyun didn't say a word, but his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
The climb was brutal. Every step felt like two. Sweat poured. Muscles ached. But eventually, after what felt like forever, the shrine appeared between the trees ancient, serene, and impossibly still.
Master Hwang stood waiting, as if he had known they would arrive that exact moment.
His expression was unreadable as always, but the moment his eyes fell on Rinwoo slumped tiredly on Taemin's back, pale and struggling to stay awake something flickered in his gaze.
"Bring him here," he said.
They all bowed respectfully. Rinwoo tried to get off Taemin's back, but Master Hwang gestured for him to stay still and led the way inside.
The shrine was cool and smelled of sandalwood. Light streamed through paper windows. Master Hwang took Rinwoo straight to a small guest room tucked in the back. It was warm and quiet, a futon already laid out.
Rinwoo didn't even have the strength to sit. He collapsed gently onto the futon as Master Hwang pulled the blanket over him.
"You all should rest," the monk said calmly to the others. "Rooms have been prepared."
They nodded, murmuring thanks as Master Hwang handed them keys.
Except for Taekyun.
He was handed a key… identical to Rinwoo's.
His brows furrowed.
Before he could ask, Master Hwang's eyes narrowed coldly.
"You'll stay with him tonight."
Taekyun blinked.
"What—?"
"His fever is high. If it worsens overnight, he could be in danger. I expect you to monitor him."
"…You're seriously putting me in the same room as—?"
Master Hwang didn't flinch. "I am. Because he's your husband. your responsibility"
Taekyun went silent.
Master Hwang fetched a bowl, filled it with cold water, and brought over a clean cloth. He handed it to Taekyun without waiting for agreement.
Taekyun stared at it.
The bowl was warm from Master Hwang's hands. The water inside shimmered faintly. The cloth was soft.
"…Fine," Taekyun muttered, swallowing down the growing knot in his throat.
He stepped inside the room and closed the sliding door behind him.
The only sound was Rinwoo's soft breathing uneven, weak. He was curled up under the blanket, his hand clutching the edge like a child. A quiet whimper escaped his lips in sleep.
Taekyun sank to his knees beside him.
He dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out slowly, and pressed it to Rinwoo's burning forehead.
His hand trembled.
And he whispered to no one:
"…Why do you always make it so hard to hate you?"